


Petunia's Past

by Nope



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-14
Updated: 2005-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:13:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Really incredibly horrible ways to spend the day before your birthday, number sixteen.
Kudos: 1





	Petunia's Past

There was a celebration over lunch at number four, Privet Drive. Dudley Dursely had won the county under-eighteen's boxing tournament with a daring last minute technical knock-out. Harry suspected he was supposed to be impressed by his cousin's pugilistic achievement, but he was too busy desperately trying not to laugh at Dudley's shiny new medal which, proudly slung around his neck, announced to the world that Dudley was a Big Bopper.

"Brilliant," chortled Vernon, chins wobbling as he clapped Dudley on the back. "Just like Rocky, my boy. There's the old Dursely spirit!"

"I had your Smelting's stick as inspiration, Dad," said Dudley, grinning hugely and waving his giant knobbly stick around enthusiastically.

"Look at my icky Duddykins! All grown up!" Petunia pinched his cheek and Dudley pouted, batting her hand away. "I'm going to cook you a big slap up dinner as reward. Harry! Get out the frying pan and the good bacon."

"Thanks, mum," said Dudley, "but you know, now I'm an award-winning athlete I really have to watch what I eat. Carbs are the enemy. Carbs are the enemy! Carbs! Are! The enemy!"

Harry stared at Dudley in alarm. Spittle frothed disgustingly on his cousin's lips.

"That's telling her! Down with carbs!" Vernon chimed in, though Harry was pretty sure his uncle had no idea what carbs where and was probably imagining Dudley beating up dodgy looking Russians or something.

"If you're not going to eat it," said Petunia, taking the huge rashers of perfectly succulent bacon out of the fridge, "I'm sure Vernon would be happy to eat your share. You can have his vegetables."

"Oh, no," said Vernon with remarkable self-denial. "If Dudley is going to give it up then, by God, I will as well!"

"Well done, Dad," cheered Dudley, and waved his stick about some-more, narrowly missing Harry who was edging towards the bacon.

"If neither of you are having it," said Petunia, "I don't know what I'll do. It's far too much for me and it needs to be eaten today."

"Um," tried Harry.

Dudley whacked him with the stick. "Quiet! Mummy's talking!"

"I can't put it out for the birds. We've been having dreadful problems with pests lately." She screwed her face up. "Do you know, I saw a rat in the neighbour's garden the other morning. Right there, big as you please! Well, I never, I said, to Marjorie, did you see that rat? and she said, no--"

"Rat?" interrupted Harry, bacon forgotten, stomach twisting. "What rat?"

"That's what she said," said Petunia. "'What rat?' And don't interrupt me!"

"Yes," said Vernon. "Don't interrupt her. Dudley, hit him again."

Dudley did.

"Ow!" yelled Harry, rubbing his head.

"I made sure I got him with the knob," crowed Dudley. "Just like you taught me, dad."

"A real chip off the old block, son, and no mistake," said Vernon proudly, tears welling up in his eyes.

"I love you, dad," cried Dudley, flinging his arms around his father.

"I love you too, son," cried Vernon, doing the same. They sobbed loudly into each other's shoulders. Petunia smiled mistily at them at carefully wiped a tear from the corner of her eye with the tea towel.

Harry tried not to retch.

"I think I'll wrap the bacon up in a couple of Tesco carriers and put it out in the front bin," said Petunia. "Harry! Fetch me some Tesco carriers! And then wrap the bacon! And don't think I'm watching you. No trying to sneak some. I know what you people are like!"

"SOD THE BLOODY BACON," yelled Harry. "I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE BLOODY RAT!"

There was a sudden, weighty silence. Three pairs of beady eyes glared at him.

"Er," said Harry. "Please?"

"Dudley!" cried Petunia, white in the face and waving a trembling hand at Harry. "Strike him with your stick! Roughly!"

Not being stupid, Harry dodged out of the way.

"He's dodging, dad," yelled Dudley. "Stop him dodging!"

"You stop that dodging right now, freak boy," yelled Vernon, "and take what's coming to you! More knob, Dudley! More knob!"

Despite his best efforts, even Dudley couldn't compare to the speed of Death Eater hexes, and Harry managed to keep his distance. Unfortunately Vernon noticed Harry edging around and quickly blocked the door, leaving Harry with no escape as Petunia was between him and the back door, speculatively eyeing a frying pan.

"Remus," gasped Harry quickly. "Moody! Coming to check on me!"

"...hit him where the bruises won't show. Dudley," yelled Vernon.

"No way," Dudley yelled back. "One tail is enough for this life time! You punish him!"

"Make him clean the house!" Petunia suggested, eyes glittering.

"With his bare hands," agreed Dudley, grinning.

"Yes," said Vernon, a sneaky look on his face. "They can't complain about good honest labour, can they? And I know just the perfect task to set you to. I'm sure your sort are used to dark and grime, always living in castles and dungeons!"

"That's right," said Dudley, and Petunia added, "you tell him, Vernon."

"You're going in the darkest, grimiest place in the whole house," said Vernon, a dark smile curling his lips, cheeks wobbling alarmingly with his amusement.

"Hooray!" Dudley and Petunia cheered together.

"The loft!" roared Vernon.

"Hooray!" repeated Dudley.

"What?" said Petunia.

"Up those stairs with you!" Vernon pointed in a pudgy, dramatic way.

"Er," said Petunia. "He should clean the greenhouse! That's much ickier! All that moss!"

"You made me do that yesterday," said Harry before he could stop himself, then bit his tongue and cursed inwardly.

"Nonsense, Petunia," said Vernon, looking at her strangely. "No one's been in the loft since that incident with Maude's dogs and one of that Figg biddy's cats. It needs a jolly good cleaning, and young Harry here has kindly volunteered to do the job. Haven't you, Harry?"

Harry didn't really see the point of arguing with him. Sighing, he shuffled past Vernon and headed up the stairs.

"Wait!" cried Petunia.

Everyone looked at her.

"Um. I need Harry to, to do, um, something, vitally, vitally important. Down here. ...polish Dudley's medal! Yes! Got to keep it shiny!"

"He's not touching my medal," yelled Dudley. "No one touches my Big Bopper but me!"

Harry snorted. Dudley threw his Smelting's stick at Harry but ended up clobbering Vernon instead, who turned a rather interesting shade of purple and spluttered incoherent threats at Harry, who quickly took off up the stairs, dissolving into laughter while Petunia wrung her hands nervously.

The loft was accessed in theory by a fold-down ladder and in practice by tugging a bookcase out onto the landing and clambering up it. With a bit of wriggling, Harry managed to finally pull himself all the way, and rolled over onto his back. He'd been expecting something horror movie like, but mostly there were just small boxes, thickly encrusted with dust, and an odd, unidentifiable and rather disgusting smell. Harry let out a heavy sigh.

"Really incredibly horrible ways to spend the day before your birthday, number sixteen," he said to no-one in particular.

Something nearby went 'ting'.

"What the--" he started, and it went 'ting' again. It sounded oddly like someone trying to sound like a fork hitting a glass.

Harry got up and headed towards the sound, but it seemed to have stopped. He half-heartedly moved around some of the boxes. The thrown up dust made him cough and, the moment he did, the thing went 'ting' again.

"Ting?" said Harry.

'Ting'.

"Weird," muttered Harry and then using a chorus of "Ting!" he worked his way to the back of the loft until he was sure he'd found the box the noise was coming from, and then he pulled it back to the light coming up from the open trap. Distantly below him he heard Vernon and Dudley leave the house, but he was too distracted to pay it much heed.

Inside the dusty cardboard box was a smaller filigreed wooden box. If it hadn't been in his Uncle and Aunt's loft, staunch haters of all things related to the dreaded M word, he might have thought the wooden box had a self-cleaning charm on it. He took it out to examine the carvings, letting out an impressed whistle and grinning when the box 'ting'ed back.

The lid seemed to be locked at first but, as he prodded and poked the box it started to come loose, hinges creaking as if it hadn't been opened in a long time. With a little more effort Harry managed to pry it open, only to be confronted by a most unexpectedly familiar face: his mother.

She waved at him happily from the photograph and Harry felt his stomach twist again. There were more photos in the box and, as he flicked through them, seeing his mother and her sister (glaring and shaking tiny photograph fists at him), his mother and his father, his father and his friends, Remus and especially Sirius, a lump grew in his throat, and his eyes prickled, and he quickly took the photos out and set them aside for later.

Underneath where the photos had been were some personal effects, quills and ink just like Harry used at Hogwarts, some scraps of parchment with doodles on, and, at the bottom, a large rolled up scroll, which he took out.

"Don't look at that!" yelled Petunia from behind him, her head popping up through the trap.

Harry yelped and, startled, fumbled the scroll, which unrolled, bouncing across the floor into Petunia's reach who snatched it up but not so fast that Harry couldn't read the glittering silver letters of the Kwikspell logo.

Petunia stared at him, white-faced and trembling.

"Oh, my god," said Harry, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You're not a Muggle! You're a Squib!"

"No, I'm not," yelled Petunia. "I'm a perfectly ordinary person!"

"I saw the scroll!" said Harry. "That's a correspondence course for Squibs! Our school janitor has one exactly like it!"

Petunia wobbled and for a horrifying moment, Harry thought she was going to fall, but she caught herself on the side of the trap and then started clambering up. While she was occupied, Harry quickly grabbed up the photos and stuffed them in his pocket.

Puffing, Petunia pulled herself the rest of way up and glared at him. Half in shadow and lit from below as she was, it was a rather terrifying sight, but compared to Voldemort returning from the dead it didn't do much to perturb Harry and so, when she yelled "I am not!" he promptly yelled "Are too!" right back at her.

"It's not my fault," Petunia wailed, bursting into tears. "I never learned to Spell!"

To Harry's mounting horror she suddenly flung herself at him, not to attack, but to wrap her arms around him and sob brokenly against his shoulder. Harry awkwardly patted her back, absently wishing for something simple like a dementor attack and trying to make out the words she was babbling incoherently between sobs.

At least, he mused to himself, there was no way his birthday tomorrow could be any worse than this.


End file.
